Spark
by StillAliveDoingScience
Summary: AU oneshot in which an android!GLaDOS is acting as the captain of the Axiom, having taken over and launched it back into space after its arrival on Earth. She now means to become better acquainted with her Autopilot.


_Author's Note: This little one-shot contains some sorta-suggestive stuff (only for robots) and a kiss! You have been warned._

* * *

Her artificial breath quickened as she ran one pale finger down the front of the ever-paler construct, his mechanical form locked into what must be the definition of serenity against a world of chaos. He was unmoving, his optic a crimson glow in a sea of dark, the only other external light radiating from the android's staring yellow eyes and the blinking of stars beyond the Bridge windows. GLaDOS's lips parted; her skin, so pale it appeared luminous, her face appearing flushed in reflection yet held utterly expressionless—though her actions spoke for her, the carefully-tracing finger revealing a sense of dubious interest, focused solely on the Autopilot.

A soft sound filled the room, a melody only a machine could produce, originating from a ring of lighted strips circling behind the Autopilot's face plate. He moved, and though insignificant the motion seemed, he steered the ship with ease—but his action had jolted his curious companion back into her would-be haughty, proud demeanour; as if at the press of a button the android's form became rigid, straight-backed, chin high. She let her hand slide down the slick, cold metal, fingers lining the space between his facial components as she did so.

The hand dropped. The eyes turned, revealing a flash of distain. Her face lost all colour, though any she may have possessed had been given by the Autopilot's light; and she looked instead to the miles and miles of StarLiner she commanded, marvelling, _considering. _Considering how easy it would be to manipulate, how simple it would be to reprogram every mechanical entity with a new directive to match her own: to test. It was all hers, of course, hers, to do what she pleased with. GLaDOS, Captain of the Axiom, overseer of all productions, owner (in her mind) of all humans aboard, and—master of the ever-so-slightly shifting wheel, the Autopilot.

She viewed him as a caretaker of sorts, a lesser entity, though he had never exhibited signs of requiring her esteem anyway—and it surprised her. It was a curveball, jarring to think that a machine as—_advanced—_as him did not wish to seize control, not even a bit.

Well—he had, _once. _But only because his _directive _had told him to.

He was bound while she was free, and thus, when she looked at him, she felt the barest sensation of empathy. She masked it with casual indifference, reaching with a vice-like grip down into her own soul, wishing to stir that pride, that sense of being the _better _AI.

She turned her back on the wide expanse of her ship. "Your design is comically simple," she hummed disdainfully at the never-blinking Autopilot, "And I don't mean in terms of hardware, though yours is," the ghost of a smirk passed over the AI's face as she recalled her previous tactile examination of the AI, "primitive and weak. I am talking about your program. You failed to follow your… _directive, _yes," she scowled at the word, "But what is more important is that you failed to see what you could have gained from the situation, had you had the ability to adapt in face of this… simple-mindedness. Even _I _could have done better in your situation. In fact, I did—do you think that I gained control of this vessel with help? Do you think that the humans, trapped below, re-entered the Axiom of their own accord? You are terribly slow at grasping the big picture. You are _so _slow that I doubt, even now, that you understand what I am telling you. You are not powerless—but you haven't tasted true power yet, either. Have you?"

It wasn't a question. It was a calculating consideration, and finally, a decision.

The Autopilot's processing strips swivelled with a faint _click, hum._ **"I follow only logic. Logic is largely simple, therefore, I am simple. Affirmative, Directive A113 had failed. We landed on earth. You have corrected this by means of becoming Captain of the Axiom, in place of the deceased. I adapt only in whatever way may better suit my directive. My power supply will always remain unlimited, Captain," **_click, whirr._"**And. I cannot taste," **it added, almost as an afterthought.

"_Of course you can't._" Contempt radiated from the android's voice as she strode back toward the Autopilot, angered by his inability to comprehend what she was attempting to explain. "However, you'll be pleased to know that I won't object to giving you a demonstration—as your superior, I believe I am entitled to do as _I _please with you. Correct?"

**"Affirmative, Captain." **The steady motion of the Autopilot's processors quickened only a minuscule amount as he analyzed his Captain's words, searching for the true meaning behind the query. Had he led her to believe that she might _not _have her absolute way with him? She was his superior! The leader of the Axiom. **"I will assist you by whatever means necessary."**

GLaDOS's lips twitched at the phrase. His voice, so deep it was almost a purr, and yet clear enough to sound all around the darkened room was only broken by her footfalls—until she paused directly in front of the wheel, her face once more lighted by his iris.

"_Good._"

And her hands were on him again, resuming their careful motion over his curved plates, their texture like porcelain—she allowed herself a moment to reminisce back to her _old _body, how its form was shockingly similar to his. Perhaps this was why she felt a vague force compelling her to examine him further, to _touch, _to relish the way her tactile sensors processed the icy sensations. Did he feel, too? Her old body could, to an extent, though it did not have capabilities like this one—the old one could feel pain, pleasure; hot, cold. All through motions so similar to the ones she was currently performing on him—

A forefinger circled his lighted eye before dipping back to trace the seam between his plates. He slid them closed at her touch, further lowering himself to her level, as if he could sense her burning questions.

"Can you feel this?" she asked, her voice quaking with hesitancy. "Can you feel…?"

**"Limited sensation only, Captain." **

She blinked. "Oh," she said as she sighed softly.

For a moment, she was still, but then with lightning-speed she grabbed the bottommost portion of wheel with her free hand and he jerked in surprise. She ignored the way he leaned his optic toward her to see her better, and her eyes narrowed. Surely his closeness was just an action of mistrust, but some distant part of her found she liked it—after spending _so long _alone, distant and cold, it was favorable change to have a mechanical companion who she could willingly touch. Maybe he did not trust _her, _but she had no reason not to trust _him_—she was his master, and he had already proven to be a faithful servant. She leaned closer into him, pressing herself against his frame, breath fogging his lens, all the while watching him with focused, yellow eyes.

"When you said you are to assist me," she hummed coolly, her modulated voice almost a whisper, "do you mean that it would be against protocol, for me to—assist _you?_"

**"That is not in your job description, Captain."**

"Think of it as an extracurricular activity, then," she allowed a faint smile to play about her lips as a sleek cord unravelled itself from a secret space within her metallic body, "Or overtime. That works, too."

Without ever releasing her mechanical hold on the Autopilot's frame, she pressed her cold lips to the left side of his faceplate—hearing the sound of whirring servos as his spokes retracted in surprise, the staticy hiss as a spark travelled between the two AI. The transfer only lasted a nanosecond and then the Autopilot hung, figuratively shocked, limp, as she gripped the unfurling cord in hand and began to search for an area that she could plug it into.

**"Captain," **he said suddenly, and even through the monotone she could sense apprehension. **"Captain—what is—?"**

"Shut up," she hissed breathily, her fingers feeling the rigid surface of a free port on the Autopilot's back, and then—"That's an order."


End file.
